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Dennis the Menace, 2/8/07

Well, OK, so it’s a little menacing to fill some little kid’s head full of tales of supernatural demons to the extent that his eyes are wide with mortal terror and (presumably) his bladder is emptying onto the sheets. However, the little kid is Joey, who is such a tremendous feeb that it isn’t even sporting to try to scar his psyche permanently. Dennis could have gotten the same results by saying, “Look, under the bed! Shoes!” Or just making a loud noise.

Mary Worth, 2/8/07

“No, I came halfway around the world to drag you back to the stultifying suburban existence that you’ve tried so hard to escape! If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for you! The fact that I got to insult a third-world doctor and condemn dozens of children to a lifetime of suffering in the process — well, that’s just a bonus!”

Seriously, Mary Worth is an awful, awful human being. If Jeff manages to muster his last reserves of strength, sit up, and bite off the tip of Mary’s pointing finger, he will forever be my hero.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 2/8/07

Today’s TDIET shocked and horrified me — not for the usual reasons, but because Loopina is actually a type recognizable to modern, vaguely with-it people. Surely we all know that young contrarian hipster — probably not a teenager, but certainly under the age of 35, which, for the typical TDIET reader, amounts to the same thing — who’s all techno-enabled and blog-happy and whatnot but when it comes to music will wax rhapsodic about the warmer sound you get from LPs. Heck, he or she may very well have a blog that focuses on that very subject. It’s a good thing that this panel includes characters dressed like they’re from some bizarre alternate-universe 1950s and the delightfully weird phrase “computer-armchair potato” or my head might have exploded.

Update: Well, obviously the reason this TDIET depicts life after the end of the Truman administration is that “Leila Louise Henly” is none other than faithful reader Non-Shannon (you might remember her from the picture that accompanied this post). Congrats, Non-Shannon. I like the bow in your hair, but I’m frankly shocked that you weren’t depicted as listening to a Victrola.

Mark Trail, 2/8/07

Hmm, I may have to rethink my heroin theory. The only way you make tropical-island-retirement money in a national forest is through shady logging deals. If we get to see Mark punch out Secretary of the Interior Dirk Kempthorne at the end of all this, I will be a happy guy.

Garfield, 2/8/07

Ha! Garfield got a text message! And it spelled you like u! It’s funny … text messages … kids today … um … oh, God … [soft, persistent weeping].

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For Better Or For Worse, 2/7/07

Who among us — particularly, who among those of us who have had the misfortune to read his loathsome monthly letters — hasn’t wanted to say “*#@[star][Saturn]!!” to Michael Patterson? At last Grandpa Jim, who certainly didn’t leave his farm to stoically fight the Nazis just so his whiny ingrate of grandson could make mad bank with a book about an innocent Irish girl and the stoic Canadian who left his farm to fight the Nazis who abused her, says what everyone else is feeling. My only concern is that the final thought balloon undermines the joy at seeing the eldest Patterspawn obscenely insulted, that maybe Jim thought he was saying “Good for you, m’boy! I always knew you’d make it!” instead of “*#@[star][Saturn]!!”. However, I choose to believe that he’s wondering about the construction of the book because he’s hoping, once next fall comes around and his strength has returned, that he can beat Michael to death with it. *#@[star][Saturn]!! you, Michael.

Hi and Lois, 2/7/07

“Because once the two of them die of pneumonia, I’m another step closer to 100 percent of the inheritance. Then all I have to do is rig Chip’s guitar to electrocute him, and … MOO HA HA!”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/7/07

Rex Morgan, M.D., is trying to worm its way back into my affections with the whole “June throws herself at a thirteen-year-old boy” gambit again; I have to admit that it’s kind of working. I’m interested to see what strategy she uses to distract Niki from his simmering class resentment. “No, it’s not really so big … uh-oh, I just splashed water all over my white t-shirt!” You don’t want to know what the carrot is for.

Mark Trail, 2/7/07

Wait, Mark Trail was in the army? Maybe his obsessive love of nature is some kind of attempt to make up for the massive Agent Orange deforestation program he ran back in ‘Nam. He does seem to have received extensive training in righteous-fist-to-face combat.

I am a little unnerved by Mark’s shit-eating grin in panel two. It’s too easy to assume that Mark and Dan were all not asking and not telling when they were in the service, and anyway, it’s well known that Mark finds sex with anyone to be abhorrent. I’m guessing Dan was Mark’s connection to sweet, sweet heroin. The reason Mark so angrily beats up drug dealers on his turf nowadays is that none of them offer product as satisfying as the horse he got back when he was in the army, and Mark demands high-quality goods, dammit.

Pluggers, 2/7/07

When it comes to food science, gerontology, and/or chemistry, pluggers are terribly misinformed.

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Beetle Bailey, 2/6/07

Those of you who read Beetle Bailey in black in white in the newspaper, as God intended us to do, were spared from the horrifying and baffling sight of an entirely blue Lt. Fuzz. I mean, forget changing races; our blond-haired junior officer seems to have changed species. The only even vaguely reasonable explanation I can come up with is that this is some kind of comics coloring sweatshop version of day-for-night filming. Some movies that don’t have the budget to properly light night scenes shoot during the day, then run the film through a blue filter to look more like nighttime. (Fans of MST3K will remember Attack Of The The Eye Creatures, a film in which this technique was implemented particularly ineptly.) Apparently someone down at King Features coloring thought that giving Lt. Fuzz a shiny white face would be all wrong for this ill-lit situation, and the only color in the limited palate available that vaguely conveyed a sense of shadowing was this weird blue.

Those of you who read Beetle Bailey in black in white in the newspaper were not distracted by this puzzle from the “punchline,” which doesn’t make a damn bit of sense no matter how much you look at it, so we online types got let off pretty easy.

Curtis, 2/6/07

Some have claimed that my Curtis geography lesson yesterday was misplaced, and that the idea of “Compton Kaheem” being from Philly is actually part of the joke. I’m still dubious, but I am sharp enough to realize that this strip is setting us up for a punchline tomorrow. Still, almost everything about it is stunningly loathsome. The elder Wilkins’ creepy mechanical laugh (not the first time it’s appeared in this strip), his little sing-songy invitation to his 11-year-old son to watch a little soft-core human degradation, said 11-year-old’s clench-fistedly eager anticipation of same with his dad sitting there behind him, the very idea of a “syrup chapter” of the venerable Girls Gone Wild franchise … I’m frankly having a hard time thinking of anything that might happen tomorrow that could redeem this, except perhaps the entire human race being wiped out by an asteroid.

Mark Trail, 2/6/07

Ah, Mark! For a man so in touch with the natural world, you sure do talk like an android. I’d love to hear Mark talk about some fishing stories. “There was this one fishing story, I used to tell it to Cherry when we were first dating. Rusty loves that story! His little face just lights up and he says, ‘Tell it again, Mark, tell it again!’ Excitable little kid. Yup, that sure is a great story. Then there’s this other fishing story I like to tell…”

The Phantom, 2/6/07

For those of you not in the know, “Bandar medicine” is the Phantom and Guran’s little code phrase for roofies. I have no idea how they think that’s going to help, unless “ill” is code for something I don’t even want to know about.

Gil Thorp, 2/6/07

Speaking of people going, having gone, or being about to go wild, those boys don’t look like they’re going anywhere near wild in panel two. There are entirely too many clothes, for one thing. And not nearly enough syrup.